7 Days of Madison
by iColor With Crayons
Summary: A day late, BUT to celebrate James Madison's birthday, Vern Mosely is spending the week introducing James Madison to the 21st century. *Sequel to 7 Days of Jefferson, which is helpful but not necessary to understand everything going on here.


Day One

"God, this is so stupid," Vern sighed as she shuffled up towards the main gates of Montpelier. She buried her hands deep in her pockets, deep as they would go, looking around at the other patrons nervously. A few looked at her oddly - having heard her speaking to herself - but otherwise ignored her. She was inconsequential enough to avoid scrutiny.

Some days, she would have been annoyed at the little amount of attention people devoted to her. Today, however, she was glad of it. She had been sent on a fool's errand by Thomas Jefferson, and frankly, it was a Catch-22.

On Thomas' birthday, Vern had been cursed with the Founding Father's presence for an entire week. On his last day in the 21st century, he had asked her to visit Montpelier on James Madison's birthday - March 16 - to see if maybe, just maybe, he would be able to visit the 21st century for a little while, too. Vern felt that she owed Thomas an honest effort, even if he was kind of an asshole.

As she approached the tomb where James Madison was buried, she looked around at the tourists milling around. To say that they were paying their respects would have been giving them too much credit. They were taking pictures, whispering facts that they'd heard during their tours of the mansions, and scolding their children when they misbehaved out of sheer boredom. An appearance by James Madison would be noticed by these tourists, but not in a good way. They would think that he was part of the tour - a form of entertainment. They would shuffle forward in their chunky sandals, barking orders for him to pose for pictures.

That wouldn't do.

So Vern found a spot under a tree and dedicated some time to writing a letter to James Madison. It might make his transition into the 21st century better than Thomas' had been. She had also brought with her a book on modern day inventions and how they worked - just in case he had Thomas' obsession with mechanics.

Vern continued the letter, pausing every once in awhile to scowl at the tourists who wouldn't seem to go away. The manor closed at three. Surely they needed to move on to the nearest Cracker Barrel and carry on with their tour of Virginia.

As two forty-five rolled around, one or two tourists continued to linger. A mansion employee was now supervising, warning everyone that they would need to leave soon. Vern scowled. An employee only made the situation more difficult.

Blessedly, at two forty-nine, Vern found herself alone with James Madison's tomb. She leapt off of the bench that she was sprawled across and approached with little fanfare. She didn't know how long she had until someone else came milling around.

"James Madison." She didn't know exactly what brought Thomas around when she had visited Thomas, so she was repeating everything that she had done that day. Namely, standing in front of his tomb and reciting his name. She hoped that would be enough.

It was.

"Who are you?" A tiny, sickly man materialized in front of the tomb. He looked Vern over suspiciously, most likely assuming that she was an idle or runaway slave. Explaining that slavery was no longer an accepted practice was going to be tiresome. "One of Thomas' girls?"

"I'm not a slave," Vern sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked around for Montpelier employees. She needed to get James moving if she was going to avoid suspicion. "You're in the 21st century - the year 2018. Thomas sent me here to show you around for your birthday. Here, read this."

She thrust the letter she had written into his arms to keep him busy. James fumbled with the papers, looking up at her in offended shock. "How dare you?"

Vern sighed and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She dropped it on the pile of papers in James' arms. She assumed that it would be enough to convince him that it was an all new time period. He fussed with it absently, looking up at her with disapproving but ultimately believing eyes.

"What is this?"

"It's called a cell phone. I guess you don't know what a phone is, though, so the 'cell' part wouldn't make much difference. Uh...it's just a really advanced piece of technology. Does that prove that you're in 2018 yet, or do I need to waste more time going over this?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Vern," Vern brushed a curly strand of hair from her face with a grin. "And I'm here to show you all that the modern world has to offer for the next week."

"Why?"

"Because last year, I did that for Thomas Jefferson," Vern explained with a shrug. "When I brought him back to Monticello after a week, he asked me to do the same for you. He thought you might enjoy seeing America today. So, what do you say? Want to learn about the world?"

James looked around wearily for a moment before nodding. "Where is your carriage?"

Vern tried not to recoil at the knowledge that she would once again have to explain a car to yet another founding father.

"Right this way."

* * *

"What about slavery?" James wasn't as fixated on the car as Thomas had been. He sat in the passenger seat of Vern's crappy car, staring down at the letter that Vern had written thoughtfully. "You're...free. Does that mean that slavery was abolished?"

"Shortly after you died," Vern answered automatically. She cringed a bit. "Sorry. Is it weird talking about your looming mortality?"

James shrugged, looking up from the letter. "Physicians have been telling me that death is imminent for years, now. I've grown somewhat accustomed to it. You said that slavery was abolished shortly after my death. When did I die?"

"Oh, I don't know that I should be telling you that," Vern shifted in her seat. "I don't know if there are rules to this whole thing. I don't want to get into trouble."

James let out an impatient huff of air. "Fine, then. Let's just say that I die at some age or another. In what year does slavery become abolished? Was there retaliation to this abolition? What of the economy? Did the economy collapse?"

"Um," Vern chewed her lip. Thomas hadn't wanted to know so much about history beyond the Revolutionary years. He was interested in his own future as the President, to be sure, but did not necessarily care about the greater scheme. She briefly wondered how this might impact his actions once he returned to the correct point in time. "The country broke out into a civil war."

James frowned. "I thought that it might. What happened next?"

"Do you really want to know?" Vern knew of James' affinity for the South.

"Of course I do," James answered impatiently. "There's no reason to ask if one does not desire an answer. Would you please do me the courtesy?"

"Watch your tone," Vern murmured without much malice. It looked like all of the founding fathers behaved like spoiled children, if James and Thomas were to serve as their example. "The South won. The North mopped the floor with them. Wasn't even close."

"Propaganda, no doubt." James sniffed.

"Okay." Vern wasn't going to get into an argument with him over the validity of the victory of the Union army.

James was quiet for a while, maybe ten minutes or so. Vern was just getting used to the mildly uncomfortable silence when he spoke up again.

"How did the South lose?"

"I'm really not sure," Vern admitted. "I only studied it for about two weeks in a general history course. That's not really my area of expertise. Military strategies," She waved her hand dismissively.

James blinked, incredulous. "You mean to tell me that you are wholly uninterested in a war which prevented you from servitude for the entirety of your life?"

"I mean, maybe don't make it sound so shitty."

"Are all of you this way?" James continued, shaking his head.

"I would think very strongly about lumping black people into one category," Vern advised him, her eyes narrowing. Still, it was better than Thomas' blatant racism. "I'll see if I can find you one of my old textbooks when we get back to my apartment."

"Nonsense," James protested immediately, his voice high-pitched and whiny. Vern suspected that he might've been playing at an assertive tone. "One book will hardly suffice for such an expansive topic. Where is a library? A real library - not just one book."

"You want to go to the library? Right now?" Vern questioned dubiously.

"Yes," James replied with conviction.

"All right," Vern flipped on her turn signal, taking the exit which would lead her to campus instead of her apartment. She didn't really feel like spending her Friday evening sitting beside James Madison in the campus library, but that seemed to be the only thing that he really wanted out of the 21st century thus far. She had let Thomas drive her car. She could let James explore a modern-day library.

"Why is such generalization inappropriate?" James then asked, returning to a comment that Vern had assumed needed no explanation.

Vern looked away from the road momentarily, caught off guard by his question. "What?"

"Why is it unfair to - how did you phrase it? - lump you all together?"

"Oh," Vern returned her attention to the road, frowning at the mass amounts of students littering the roads, all of them wearing green. St. Patrick's Day festivities had already begun. Finding parking on campus was going to be a nightmare. "It's just unfair to everyone involved. I wouldn't lump you in the same category as George III, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, and Aaron Burr just because you're all white men who lived in the same generation."

"That is entirely different," James argued. "We could not be more different. For instance, George III was of England. As you know, I am a native of Virginia."

"So am I." Vern geared up for yet another conversation about racial sensitivity.

James paused, considering this. "I suppose you may have a point."

That was a surprise. Thomas would have argued until the cows came home.

"Thank you," Vern was too surprised to think of some snarky remark.

James nodded. "Is it difficult? Being a...ah...what is the appropriate term these days? I assume that the ones that I know are no longer socially acceptable."

"Black is fine," Vern was relieved that James was showing an interest in learning. "I'm black."

"Black, then," James accepted easily enough. "Is it difficult being a black individual today? Or has racial prejudice become a thing of the past?"

"It has not. Progression comes in waves - there are years where we surge forward and years where we kind of get drug back. Right now, it's...well, I'll be candid with you - it's shit."

"It seems to me that you are always candid."

"Yeah, well, people tend to get the wrong idea if I'm not."

"I see." James looked Vern over, neither approving nor disproving. He then turned to peer through the windshield at the massive, hideous brick building that was the campus library. "Is this the library?"

"Yep." Vern threw the car in park and removed her keys. She hopped out of the car and opened James' door for him. Like Jefferson, he didn't quite grasp the concept of turning the handle. "It should have more than one book on the civil war."

"Thank you," James nodded at Vern deferentially before walking towards the library. Vern followed after him lazily, fumbling through her pockets for her student ID. She was fairly certain that James would not be able to make it through all of the books in the library; he would probably check out more than a few.

"Hi," Vern greeted the student workers manning the library desk with a sympathetic smile. They all looked so miserable to be there on a Friday afternoon. She could hardly blame them. "Do you know where the books on the civil war would be located?"

"Up the stairs and to the left, sections A-F." One of the workers, a guy with a sandy mop of hair, mumbled without looking up from his psychology textbook.

"Thanks." Vern looked at James before gesturing towards the stairwell. He followed after her, looking back at the student worker in surprise.

"That was rude, was it not?" He remarked much louder than he should have.

"It's fine," Vern assured him, rolling her eyes. "I don't blame him for not wanting to be here. Everyone has more interesting things to do today than sit around and look for civil war books."

James snorted. "Such as?"

"Getting drunk."

"We did that in my time, too." James afforded Vern a look similar to that of a grandmother patronizing a single mother's baking technique. "Though perhaps considered stimulating to those of lesser intellect, surely a library is considered a superior outlet for one's free time?"

Vern just shrugged. "Everyone spends their time differently."

"Evidently, not." James murmured, growing distracted by the titles of books as they stalked down the first section that the student worker had mentioned. After walking a few paces, he turned to look at Vern. "Must I ask for permission to read these books, or am I permitted to remove them from their shelving and peruse at my leisure?"

"You can pull any book you want," Vern looked over James' wiry frame, her eyes widening a bit. She was slightly worried that a book would fall from the shelf and break his little spine. She didn't know if James' death in the 21st century would equate to him disappearing from the 18th century, but she very much did not want to risk that. "Just let me know if you need help reaching anything."

"I am sure that I can handle it," James seemed to resent the suggestion that he might not be able to reach a book or handle a particularly heavy book's weight. He examined the books in sulky silence for a few moments before whispering, "Could you please get me that book? The one with the portrait on the cover?"

* * *

They were in the library until it finally closed at 7pm that night. When the announcement sounded that the library was closing, James turned to Vern with a panicked expression. He had hardly made a dent in the research he'd set out to do. Vern had pacified him by reassuring him that they would just check out the books he hadn't read yet. The sandy-haired psychology major who'd been stuck closing down the library was none too pleased when Vern plopped 23 civil war books onto the counter for him to check out at 6:59pm. He grew significantly more irritated when Vern asked if he might help them carry all of the books to her car once he was otherwise finished closing the library.

When Vern pulled into her parking spot at her apartment complex, she turned to look at the books littering the backseat dismally. "Let's just take what we can carry into the apartment tonight. We can bring more up as needed."

"What?" James did not like this plan. "You mean to tell me that you plan to leave these books outside throughout the night?"

"I mean, they'll be in the car."

"I am not worried about forces of nature," James said, as though he were explaining this to an elementary schooler. Vern did not appreciate it. "I am worried about thieves."

"No need," Vern remarked dismissively, grabbing as many books as she could reasonably handle before walking around the car to let James out. He hopped out with three books in his own arms. "Books aren't really a rarity anymore; they're not worth stealing. I mean, my textbooks cost a small fortune, but that worth only really applies to people in my class. They're utterly worthless to the average man on the street."

"I see," James said with an expression that suggested that he was lying. He changed the subject as they took the stairs to Vern's third-floor apartment. "So, you said that Thomas stayed with you for a week? In this very same apartment?"

"Yep," Vern shifted the books in her arms. She had chosen a few of the heavier books in the car. "He was adamant that I give you the same experience."

"How is Thomas?" James' voice softened a bit. "I don't mean...I mean, I know how he was when I left him, but...was he happy with the way that it all turned out? The country? The government?"

Vern tilted her head, considering this. "Yes and no. I think that he was happy to learn that the country still existed. Given its rocky start, that's understandable. He was thrilled to hear that he was the president before he died."

James smiled slightly. "I'm sure that he was."

"History favored Hamilton over Jefferson, though." Vern hadn't told Thomas this. She hadn't had the heart to. "At least, it currently does. The government is much more federalist than you guys intended for it to be. On top of that, there's this musical, and, well, it doesn't make Thomas look awfully good."

"A musical?" James clarified, his eyebrows furrowing. "Is that similar to an opera?"

"Yeah, yeah." Vern searched her pocket for her apartment keys, balancing the books in one arm. "It's called Hamilton. I'm sure you can guess what it's about."

"Really?" James frowned. "An entire opera about Hamilton? What for?"

"I don't know, he was an interesting guy."

"If you like that sort of thing, maybe."

"Aha," Vern found her key and shoved it into the lock. It was too cold to be standing outside debating the merits of Hamilton with James Madison. She bumped the apartment door open with her hip, stumbling inside to put the books down before closing the door behind James. "Mags, I'm home."

The couch was empty. James looked at Vern like she was crazy. Vern set the books down on the coffee table before closing the front door and locking it behind James.

"She must be out."

"Who?"

"My roommate."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"How old are you?"

"Isn't that rude to ask?" Vern frowned at James before wandering into the kitchen. "Since Maggie's out, we're on our own for dinner. Are you hungry?"

"No," James answered, already busying himself with sorting through his books. As he did, he noticed Maggie's laptop perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table. He tried to open it like a book, to no avail. He looked up at Vern inquisitively. "What is this? Some sort of book?"

"Oh, um, no," Vern answered distractedly, dipping a spoon into Maggie's overpriced artisan peanut butter. "That's a computer. It's kind of like my phone, but a little more user-friendly."

"What does it do?"

"All kinds of things," Vern's voice was thick; the artisan peanut butter tasted better, but it had a tendency to stick to the roof of one's mouth. She opened the fridge and looked inside dismally. There were green jello shots - undoubtedly Maggie's work - a lemon, and half a pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. There wasn't much in the way of food. Vern moved to the cupboard. "You can look through the internet, play video games, write papers…"

"What is the internet?"

"Mm," Vern shook a bag of Ritz crackers. Only crumbs rattled at the bottom. She sighed and returned it to the cupboard. The trash was too full to throw it out. "It's kind of like a database where we've dumped all of the information that we've accumulated up to this point."

"Like a library...all in this one book?" James finally wrestled the laptop open. He looked at the blank screen with great interest. "How does it work?"

"Functionally, or technologically?" Vern asked, grabbing two cups of noodles from the cupboard with an air of resignation. She trudged to the sink to fill each cup with the appropriate amount of water. "I can show you how to use it, but I have no idea how to build it."

"I want to know how to use it," James answered immediately. He paused, watching Vern prepare their tragic dinner. He most likely didn't know that he would have to eat the sad, sodium-filled cup of noodles that Vern was popping in the microwave. "Please."

"Sure." Vern set the timer on the microwave and wiped excess water off of her hands and onto her jeans before crossing the living room to where James was fumbling with the laptop. She took the laptop from his hands and sat on the couch. She then patted the space next to her on the couch. "Come here, I'll show you."

James looked at her distrustfully before perching on the edge of the couch as far away from Vern as he could manage while still seeing the laptop. Vern didn't know if that was racist, sexist, or just some weird quirk of James'. She decided to believe that it was the latter as she set to work explaining the workings of a laptop.

* * *

It took Vern about two hours to teach James the basics. James only wanted to learn the basics. He assured Vern that he was a smart man; he could figure out the rest on his own. Vern was too tired by that point to argue with him. Both of their cups of noodles were in the microwave, forgotten and soggy.

"I'm going to bed," Vern grumbled, grabbing a pack of Skittles off of the counter on her journey to her bedroom. They were Maggie's Skittles, but Maggie could always buy another pack of Skittles. Rather, one of her many ardent admirers could buy her another pack of Skittles. Vern paused, noticing that James had not moved from the couch. "Come on."

James looked up from the laptop in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's like, midnight." Vern gestured to the digital clock on the microwave with her Skittles-holding-hand. "It's bedtime. I can't have you sleeping out here - Maggie's not home yet. You'll either scare her to death when she gets home, or she won't see you and will promise the couch to whoever is coming home with her tonight. Come on."

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth like she was beckoning a dog. Perhaps it was not the most dignified manner of summoning a founding father, but Vern was too tired to care.

"You expect me to follow you to your bedroom?" James asked, dumbfounded. "Out of the question. I cannot think of one more inappropriate suggestion."

"Fuck me," Vern mumbled irritably.

"Okay, I have thought of one."

"You can't sleep out here tonight," Vern told him firmly. "I don't care where you sleep, but it can't be out here. You do understand that you're not supposed to be here, don't you? I can't just say to Maggie, 'oh, hey, that's James Madison. I know it's been like 200 years since he died, but for some reason, I have the ability to bring founding fathers back to life every so often!'."

"Then I will not sleep out here," James said tightly. "That said, I will not sleep in your bedroom, either. I will find a suitable venue for myself, sure enough. You may leave me."

"Okay," Vern rolled her eyes. She doubted that James would find somewhere out of sight to spend his time, but she was far too tired to argue any further with him. "Goodnight, James."

"Mm." James murmured, fixated on whatever it was that he was doing on Vern's laptop.

Day Two

" _Jesus_!"

"You should never take the Lord's name in vain."

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in the bathtub?"

James Madison frowned up at Vern in disapproval. He settled back against the pillow that he had propped up against the shallow end of the bathtub. "Where else was I going to sleep? You forbade me from sleeping on the sofa."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Vern complained, clutching at her chest. "What are you even doing in here?"

James shut the laptop defensively. "Nothing."

Vern raised an eyebrow. "Porn?"

"What's porn?" James questioned.

"Never mind," Vern hastily changed the subject, fishing some clothes out of the linen closet within her bathroom. "I have some clothes that Thomas wore when he was here. You can wear them until we get something that's actually your size. I don't think they're going to fit you too well."

"Thomas wore these?" James looked at the clothes that Vern handed him cynically.

"You'll stand out less," Vern assured him. "While you change into those, I'm going to take back my laptop. I need to print some reading out."

Vern swiped the laptop from James' lap before he could protest. His mouth fell open, an expression of reluctance crossing his face. Vern looked at him strangely before opening the laptop. She was unable to resist seeing what it was that James had been doing with her laptop while lying in her bathtub.

To her surprise and mild amusement, Vern was greeted by the sight of a very shitty bootleg version of Hamilton. The music was barely audible over the muffled sound of a phone being hidden under a purse. The focus was blurry at best.

"It is remarkable that mankind has found a means of making moving portraits," James said nervously. "I was admiring the quality."

"The quality is shit," Vern remarked, pausing the video and setting her laptop down on the countertop near the sink. She put down the toilet seat and sat down, looking at James strangely. "If you were familiar enough with the internet to find that, you'd have seen other videos; ones with better quality. Why were you really watching it?"

"I just wanted to see," James answered, not meeting Vern's eyes.

"What did you think?"

There was a long pause. That was unusual. Vern didn't really know anyone who thought before they spoke. There was little delay between a question and an answer, not even when there was a lack of knowledge within the answer.

"My legacy is that I attempted to destroy Hamilton's," James finally said, softly. He stared at his knees, his eyebrows furrowed. He sounded neither angry or upset. Just thoughtful. "That's all I'm remembered for in this time."

"That's not your only legacy," Vern protested softly. "You, uh, you wrote some of the Federalist Papers."

"Hm, yes, before I betrayed Hamilton by not getting his debt plan through Congress," James answered humorlessly.

"Well, why don't you tell me your side of the story?" Vern suggested. "What would we see in a play about James Madison?"

"Hamilton and I were like-minded comrades." James looked at Vern, gauging her reaction. "We did not have a lot in common, but we were both fish out of water in Philadelphia. We both had plans for a country that no one seemed interested in governing. Then the Virginia Plan made it through ratification, and things got...messy. States were competing with one another for a finite amount of power. This power was contested by the federal government. There was a struggle over the necessity of state power and the necessity of federal power. Understandably, perhaps, Hamilton elected to support federal power. Though I agreed that a strong central government was vital to the creation of a stable government, I did not dream of a government half as strong as Hamilton intended. But he was from New York, which did not have as much power as Virginia. He was a part of the federal government; he stood to benefit from its power."

"You were part of the federal government, too." Vern didn't know why she contributed this information. Surely James knew that.

"Yes," James looked down at his knees again. He wasn't as animated as Thomas. It was unnerving. "But I have always considered myself a Virginian before a member of Congress."

"Enter, Thomas Jefferson?" Vern suggested with a small smile.

"Thomas and I agreed on many things," James allowed. "Including our devotion to Virginia."

"Mm," Vern hummed. She'd read a few books that suggested the two men shared more than a common love of Virginia. She decided against mentioning this to him. "So you jilted Hamilton for Jefferson?"

"I would not phrase it that way."

"How would you phrase it?"

"Hamilton and I progressed as individuals. This progression left us on opposite sides of the federalist spectrum."

"Uh-huh," Vern liked her rendition better.

"I may have been unkind in the institution of my beliefs," James conceded quietly. "But I never held any malice for Hamilton in my heart."

"I wouldn't worry too much about the play," Vern advised him, glancing at her laptop. "No one watches it for the history, anyway. It's more about the catchy tunes, the choreography and the accrual of tragedy. You're only a minor character."

"I believe you are trying to console me." James ventured a joke. Vern almost didn't recognize it. James seemed to always speak in a grave tone.

"Let's get out of here for a little while." Vern suggested, nodding towards the clothes in James' arms. "Once you get changed. Is there anything futuristic you want to do? Drive a car? Go to the mall? See a movie?"

"Medicine," James replied slowly. "I want to try your medicine."

"Huh?"

"Medicine was not advanced enough for my disposition," James explained, fussing with the buttons on the shirt in his lap. "I have never known a day of health in my life. I would like to know what it would be like to enjoy such health before my demise. It does look like others enjoy it so."

"Hm," Vern frowned. "I thought you would choose something that didn't cost an arm and a leg, but...okay. Okay. We'll, uh, we'll deal with that. I have some excess student loans, I guess. Get dressed and I'll take you to health services."

"Okay," James' attitude brightened immediately. "Close the door behind you."

"I'm not going to spy on you. I don't want to see you naked."

James didn't look convinced.

Vern rolled her eyes. She grabbed her laptop and exited the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

"That is a long list," Vern peered over James' shoulder as they exited the campus health clinic. James had received several diagnoses during their few hours spent in the clinic. He would receive even more towards the end of his stay; they'd taken as many blood samples as his wiry body could tolerate. "And there are a lot of prescriptions to fill here."

James was smiling from ear to ear. It was the happiest that Vern had seen him yet. "They knew exactly what was wrong with me, that quickly! How spoiled this society must be. How wonderful you must feel all of the time."

"This is going to cost me hundreds of dollars," Vern grumbled.

James looked at Vern, his face falling. "That much?"

Vern sighed and shook her head. "No, no, the value of money...it's less than it was in your lifetime. I think this all would cost you maybe twenty dollars back then?"

"Oh," James settled a bit. He looked at Vern hesitantly. "Are you in a position to afford such an expense?"

"Um…" Vern mentally weighed her options. "Yeah. Barely. If I don't eat anything but canned food for the next month."

"Is it too much to ask?" James obviously very much wanted this medicine but was afraid of overstepping his bounds. He differed from Thomas Jefferson in that regard. Thomas would have begged, cried, and pouted until Vern got him the medicine. Somehow, James' restraint was more compelling. Vern didn't feel that she was in any position to keep this man - who had never felt healthy a day in his life - from experiencing what it was like to enjoy his health.

"No," Vern decided firmly. "Everyone deserves medicine when they need it."

"Thank you," James looked at Vern in pure gratitude.

"Mhm," Vern wasn't good at dealing with overt gratitude. "Let's get to CVS before they close. I don't think that they're open on Sundays."

* * *

"You probably shouldn't take all of that at once," Vern looked at the small pile of pills in James' hand. "I don't know that your body is up for the challenge. I really don't want to kill you. I don't...I don't know if you would be able to return to your time if you die here."

James looked down at the pills in his hand before looking up at Vern. Hesitation was written across his features. "Surely it is worth a try...is it not?"

"I think that I would disagree with you, there." Vern protested.

"No one will know to blame you," James assured her, climbing into the nest that he had created for himself in the bathtub. He took the cup of water that Vern had gotten him off of the floor. He looked between the water and the pills. He looked up at Vern once more, venturing something nearing a reassuring smile. "I would like to make this decision for myself. I so rarely have had the pleasure of making decisions for myself in my lifetime."

"Okay," Vern sighed, running a hand through her hair. "But I don't think that I'm going to stay here waiting for any kind of reaction. I think if I do, I'll call 911 the minute you cough or even blink. I'm going to be in the other room, studying for my classes on Monday. Call me if you need anything."

James nodded. "Thank you."

"Mm." Vern left the room, her face reddening with embarrassment.

* * *

Vern had fallen asleep with her Constitutional Law textbook on her chest when a blood-curdling scream woke her up. She raced out of her room, immediately moving towards the bathroom. On an instinctive basis, she knew that whoever had screamed, it more than likely had to do with the founding father sleeping in her bathtub.

Sure enough, Maggie was standing in the doorway of Vern's bathroom. James was looking at her groggily. He had just woken up. Maggie was pale-faced and obviously startled. Vern sighed and approached the situation.

"What's going on?"

"Who is this?" Maggie demanded, gesturing towards James Madison. "Do you know him? I don't know him. I swear I didn't bring him home last night. I wouldn't... _look_ at him."

"Madame, you forget yourself," James grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Maggie looked at James like he was a madman before turning to look at Vern. "I was just coming to steal some of your toilet paper while you were asleep -"

"I _knew_ you did that!"

"Who is this man?" Maggie persisted, gesturing to James again.

"He's a friend." Vern attempted.

"I've never met him before," Maggie looked at James critically. "Are you... _dating_ him? I mean, I know that you didn't really see anyone after Thomas, but…"

"Oh, god." Vern rolled her eyes and shook her head. Maggie had assumed that Vern had been dating Thomas Jefferson for the week that he had stayed with them. Vern, though disturbed by the thought, had allowed Maggie to hold this assumption, as it was easier than explaining the truth. "No, no. He's just...an old friend."

"Old friend." Maggie echoed, looking down at James in disbelief. "Sleeping in your bathtub? Why is he sleeping in your bathtub? He's obviously not an old friend."

"Look, you're just going to have to trust me." Vern shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "If I tried to explain it all...you would think that I was crazy."

"You're kind of running that risk either way." Maggie reminded her, nodding down towards James.

"Fine." Vern huffed. She could not believe that she was about to try to explain the remarkable situation she found herself in. "That's...James Madison."

"Okay," Maggie looked down at James intently. She looked back up at Vern, considering this. "So you're fucking a descendant of a historical figure to get an "A" in one of your classes. I get it, I've been there."

"No, I - wait, _what_? Okay, we're going to need to talk about that later, but no, this is the first James Madison." Vern explained. "Like, War of 1812, Bill of Rights, Virginia Plan James Madison."

"What's the War of 1812?" James inquired quietly.

"Not now." Vern didn't need to open that can of worms.

"You expect me to believe that this is James Madison?" Maggie cocked an eyebrow.

"And Thomas from last year...that was Thomas Jefferson."

"Well, you definitely have a type."

"I know this all sounds crazy...I think it's crazy, too, but for some reason, if I go to a founding father's estate on their birthday, this happens."

"Oh, happy birthday."

"Thank you." James didn't seem to think this was a strange thing for Maggie to say in the middle of an otherwise insane conversation.

"His birthday was yesterday," Vern didn't know why that was worth mentioning. "I just...I...do you believe me? I know that you have every right to not believe me, trust me, but…"

"I've got nothing to gain from not believing you." Maggie shrugged. "Besides, he kind of looks exactly like the portraits I've studied in school. I think. Okay, I've never actually seen the portraits, but that's definitely a white man with a ponytail. Good enough for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Maggie chewed on her thumbnail. "Does this mean that we can hang out with Thomas again?"

Vern rolled her eyes. "Yes, we can hang out with Thomas again."

"Then great," Maggie grinned. "Welcome to our humble home, Mr. Madison."

"Thank you." James was smiling wider. He turned to look at Vern. "Your friend is exquisitely charming."

"Uh-huh," Vern looked at Maggie, disapproving but still smiling. "Anyway, I need to run out to the store. I need to pick up some highlighters and something for dinner. James, do you feel up to going? We should probably get you some clothes that aren't three sizes too big for you, too."

"I believe that I would much prefer to remain where I am," James risked a glance in Maggie's direction before looking at Vern apologetically. "I feel quite exhausted."

"Alright," Vern rolled her eyes. She knew better than to argue with anyone who had their heart set on remaining with Maggie. "Then I'll see you when I get back. Maggie, play nice. Remember that this is a founding father."

"Apparently." Maggie just grinned as Vern grabbed her bag and headed towards the front door.

* * *

James was still asleep when Vern got home. It was near 10pm. Vern assumed that she got off scot-free for the day. Given the issues that Thomas had caused Vern during his stay in the 21st century, it was welcomed. Vern smiled to herself as she crawled into bed, ready to get a good night's sleep.

That good night's sleep did not last very long. Around two in morning, James Madison burst into her room.

"I feel incredible!"

"Mm?" Vern mumbled sleepily, forcing one eye open to see what was going on. James was standing in the doorway, beaming. He was still wearing Thomas Jefferson's clothes. He looked like he was drowning in them.

"I have never felt so healthy in my lifetime!" James was bouncing his weight from foot to foot restlessly. "I must take advantage of this vitality - tell me, what common forms of exercise does one exert in this time?"

"I'unno," Vern grumbled, turning on her side to look at James without having to lift her head. "I don't get much of it."

"What's going on in here?" Maggie joined James in the doorway, inexplicably holding a cocktail with a little umbrella on the glass.

"I'm trying to sleep," Vern complained.

"I wish to exercise," James explained.

"Fun," Maggie looked from James to Vern with a toothy grin. "I love drunk Zumba. I think there's a class going on at Planet Fitness. I'll call us an uber. Vern, are you coming with us?"

"No," Vern couldn't believe that Maggie would even bother asking. "It is two in the morning. I want to go to sleep."

"Suit yourself." Maggie laughed, grabbing James' elbow. "C'mon. I'll show you how to call an uber. It's a very important part of the 21st century."

Vern closed her eyes as they disappeared into the living room to wait for the uber that would take them to Zumba. It took her about three seconds to fall back asleep.

Day Three

Vern awoke to the sight of James and Maggie climbing trees and laughing hysterically. An empty bottle of wine was lying at the base of one of the trees, along with an abandoned grilled was surprised at how well James had taken to Maggie. She had expected the rather prudish founding father to enjoy the company of an infamous party girl. Granted, Maggie was fun, but James was dour.

She shrugged on a coat and grabbed a pack of pop tarts from the counter. She'd bought more than just highlighters when she'd gone out; between the moment-of-weakness groceries and James' prescriptions, Vern's bank account would be hurting for months to come.

"Hey, you two," Vern tried to smile as James fell gracelessly from the low limb he'd been struggling with. Maggie laughed and helped him to his feet. James turned to Vern, his face ruddy with excitement. "Um, I have a study group this afternoon."

"A study group? On what subject?" James asked breathlessly.

"Constitutional law."

"May I accompany you?" He looked down at the grilled cheese, frowning at the ants beginning to crawl over it. "I assume that there will be refreshments provided at this event?"

"Here." Vern handed James one of the pop tarts in the pack. He looked down at it suspiciously. "It's a pastry. It won't kill you. You can come with me, but I'm leaving now."

"Are we taking the carriage?" James asked, taking a bite of the pop tart and following Vern eagerly.

"Yep," Vern answered, chewing on her own pop tart. She paused, looking down at her car keys. "I should warn you; you really shouldn't talk at this study group. I know that this is totally your life's work and you're interested in it, but I can't have too many people asking questions about you. Things worked out fine with Maggie, but Maggie is an outlier, to say the absolute least. Not everyone will understand. We could both get in a lot of trouble."

"I understand," James agreed easily. He figured out how to open the car door on his own this time and climbed into the passenger's seat on his own. "This is not a time in which I am meant for. I will not impose on your study group. I simply wish to learn."

"Good." Vern was relieved at how much easier James was than Thomas. "Then let's get going."

She put the key in the ignition of the car and threw the car into reverse.

* * *

True to his word, James did not speak throughout the study group. He looked to Vern a few times, especially when he learned how the Bill of Rights have been interpreted to benefit the government, and sometimes scrawled down some notes which would not actually help him in any real way, but he did not make a sound. Everyone had no choice but to believe Vern's explanation that he was her mentor and was just observing the study group for purely academic reasons.

"Did you enjoy that?" She only asked James for his opinion as they were walking through the courtyard of the campus building. "I have another study group in about two hours. We have time to grab some lunch if that pop tart wasn't enough for you. I know they're not very filling."

"What is Maggie doing this afternoon?" James asked instead.

Vern frowned. "Um, I think that she has a study group for one of her classes. It's either that or yoga class."

"What does Maggie study?" James' numerous questions about Maggie were unnerving.

"James," Vern spoke hesitantly. Though he was easier to tell with than Thomas, James was also more reserved than Thomas. That meant that it was more difficult to speak to him about personal things. Vern felt much less connected to him. "I don't know how you feel about Maggie, but, uh, I think that courtship in this time, at least for you would be…"

James looked horrified. "I have no desire to court Ms. Maggie."

"What?" Vern arched an eyebrow. "Then what…?"

"I enjoy her company," James said it as though Vern already had cause to know this information. "She is liberated in a way that reminds me of Dolley. She is, perhaps, freer still. Now that I am healthy, it is much more gratifying to enjoy such free behavior."

"Mm," Vern tried not to be offended by James' analysis. "So you want me to text Maggie and ask her where she's going to be? I don't know if I have time to drive you back to the apartment and get something to eat."

"If you would, I would be very grateful."

"Alright."

Vern frowned as she texted Maggie. She did not want to allow herself to be bothered by the fact that James Madison preferred her roommate's company to hers; it was his turn in the 21st century, He got to decide what he wanted to do with his time there.

* * *

Vern made it home before James and Maggie did. Maggie had study sessions running later in the evening. She also mentioned the possibility of stopping by a bar before coming home. When Vern warned her against it, reminding her that she had James Madison with her, Maggie insisted that James Madison was entitled to drink and have fun just like everyone else. It was hard not to see why James had chosen Maggie over her.

Vern set up camp on the couch. She prepared boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner. She turned on some terrible Netflix show and settled into the couch. She realized that James was right to hedge his bets with Maggie. This certainly would not have been his best use of his time in the 21st century. Maybe Thomas Jefferson had been the easier founding father, after all.

"Honey, we're home!" Maggie sailed through the front door with a shit-eating grin and a stranger's jacket in her hand. James was at her heels, smiling to himself like a drunken little fool. Maggie looked at the bowl in Vern's lap eagerly. "Whatcha got there?"

"Mac and cheese is on the stove," Vern gestured towards it lazily. "Whose jacket have you got there?"

"Oh, you know that guy, Tim?" Maggie replied, crossing the living room towards the kitchen to prepare herself a bowl. "The one who told my Human Rights class that domestic abuse was a bigger problem for men than it was for women?"

"So stealing his jacket was an act done for women's rights."

"You got it." Maggie winked at Vern. She then turned to look at James. He was standing in the doorway, looking at the TV. "Jemmie, you want some mac and cheese?"

James wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Vern rolled her eyes. She'd done enough research to understand his horror. "It's not the same thing that Thomas Jefferson made in the 18th century. It's actually good, I promise."

"Oh." James brightened up a bit. "Then, yes. I would be delighted to have a bowl." He then turned to look at Vern, his expression sombering a bit. "Would you happen to have a quill and parchment?"

"Um, no," Vern answered, eying him oddly. "This is the 21st century. What do you need to write down? You could use my laptop. It's just as easy; you can print out anything that you type up."

"No, thank you." James shook his head. "The computer is a pleasant novelty, but now I must get serious writing done."

"Okay," Vern sighed. "Then here's a pen and paper. It's the same thing, just less eco-friendly and certainly cheaper." She gestured to the clutter on the coffee table, containing several pens and wrinkled but otherwise fine papers.

"Thank you." James sifted through the clutter to find a pen and a piece of paper that he liked.

"What are you writing, anyway?" Maggie asked, her mouth full of macaroni and cheese as she crossed the living room to sit next to Vern on the couch. She craned her neck to look at the paper that James was already starting to fill with characters.

"My answer to that play," James answered, looking down at the paper in his lap thoughtfully. "That Hamilton play."

Day Four

Vern woke to the sound of Broadway music in the bathroom. Knowing it could be no one other than the founding father in her bathtub, Vern sighed and shuffled to the bathroom to see what was going on now.

It was no surprise to her when she found James asleep in the tub. Les Mis was playing on her laptop. Papers littered the floor, all of which appeared to be a part of James' anti-Hamilton musical. Vern looked down at them, unable to resist the urge to see what he had written through the night. She could not imagine what kind of musical James Madison might write. Just as she was bending down to pick up the nearest paper to her feet, James' eyes snapped open.

"Vern! There you are. What is fanfiction?"

"Huh?"

"Fanfiction," James repeated. "Am I pronouncing that word correctly? I was looking for sources on the internet regarding the Hamilton play when I stumbled upon it. It is very...strange."

"It's, ah, it's individual authors writing each thing that you've read," Vern explained uncomfortably. She didn't know what kind of fanfiction James had stumbled upon; she had a feeling that she didn't want to know. "It's kind of like each author takes the characters for their own use, for their own plot."

"So they are scoundrels."

"No, they're just practicing their writing by borrowing already-made characters."

"But in this instance, the people written about are hardly characters." James reasoned. "These authors are writing about me! Slander, I would venture to say. It is no secret that I am a strong advocate of one's right to free speech, but this is certainly an argument against it."

"At this point, you're practically a fictional character." Vern shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Do you need to study today?"

Vern shrugged again. "I can take the day off...why? I thought that you were going to stick with Maggie while you were here?"

James fidgeted in his seat. "Ms. Maggie told me that you have been to Mr. Jefferson's estate recently. Is it...are they still accepting visitors?"

"I don't think that Thomas will be there." Vern warned him.

"I know," James replied quickly. "I just...wanted to see it."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Sure." Vern hadn't planned on going to Monticello until Thomas' birthday, but this was as good an excuse as any. "We can get going whenever you're ready."

"I am ready now."

"Good. I'll get my keys."

* * *

James was shocked and appalled by the number of tourists milling around. He glowered at the tour guide who insisted that he could only see the interior of the mansion if he was on an official tour. During said tour, he mumbled corrections to all of the inaccurate statements the tour guide made to Vern. Vern politely tried to ignore it; the tour guide noticed and was growing more irritated with each passing second. James nearly screamed when a child tried to climb under the security ropes in Thomas' bedroom. The parents of the child didn't appreciate that much, either.

After the tour, Vern brought James to Thomas' tomb. James had insisted. Vern felt strange standing there; she was half afraid that the birthday rule was just a coincidence and that Thomas would come sauntering over from a distance. Judging from the hopeful look on James' face, so was he.

When Thomas didn't show up, however, James stared at the tomb somberly. Realizing that there were probably a lot of emotions going on, Vern gave him some distance. She stood a few feet behind him, watching as he continued to stare at the tomb. Finally, he turned around. He cast Vern a searching look.

"Did he seem happy?" He asked so softly that Vern almost couldn't hear him over the din of tourists.

"Who, Thomas?" Vern was caught off guard by his question.

James nodded. "Was he pleased with the way that his life went? Generally speaking, of course."

"I think so," Vern answered, standing and moving to stand next to James. "He was happy the entire week that I knew him. He accomplished a lot in his lifetime."

James nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. "Did he ever marry again?"

"After his first wife?"

James nodded again.

"No." Vern wasn't certain how old James Madison was, or at what point in his life she was meeting him. She decided against asking him. She didn't want to make the poor man worry about whatever it was that he was escaping in the 18th century. "He was only ever married once."

James seemed relieved by this answer. His posture then went rigid. "And...my wife? Whatever became of Dolley? You must think much less of me for forgetting to ask after the fate of my own wife. I assure you, I am not the sort of unfeeling man who gives no thought to his wife, this is all just so spectacularly new to me…"

"It's fine, I get it." Vern tried to console him. It was not fine, she did not get it. She did think less of James Madison for forgetting about his wife for an entire four days. He had even mentioned her once or twice, but hadn't thought to ask what happened to her in her lifetime. "Uh, as far as I know, Dolley's life was great. She's one of the most famous first ladies after she rescued the portrait of George Washington during the War of 1812."

"What is this war you keep speaking of?" James was also easily sidetracked from conversations which were supposed to be about his wife.

"I will let you figure that mess out when you get to it." Vern said firmly. "Mostly because I don't altogether understand it, either. It was a shit show, from what I've learned. You could probably ask one of the guides around here about it."

James snorted. "I am certain that they knew even less than you do."

"Okay," Vern rolled her eyes. "I think we should stop by the gift shop then leave. It seems like you've had enough of this place."

"Gift shop?" James wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "Why is there a shop on Mr. Jefferson's estate? That seems rather...cheap."

"Yeah, but they've got books."

"I fail to see why that harbors any importance."

"You'll see."

Vern led him towards the gift shop building, ignoring his pointed questions the entire time. He was so determined to accuse every one of letting Thomas Jefferson down in their treatment of Monticello. Not even Thomas had been so critical of his former home being a tourist destination.

When they arrived at the gift shop, Vern made a beeline for the books section. The books were overpriced and would, without a doubt, be infinitely cheaper on Amazon, but they were here, James only had a few days left in the 21st century, and Vern's credit card company was already calling her to demand an explanation for her wild purchases of medicine, groceries, and tickets to historic mansions. What was another reckless purchase?

"Here," Vern found what she was looking for - a biography written on Dolley Madison. She handed it to James. "This should tell you everything that you need to know about what happened throughout Dolley's lifetime. Just...promise me you'll ignore stuff about your future that you don't already know. I don't know if it'll affect history when you go back, and, well...I've seen Back to the Future. No thanks."

Nothing had changed when Thomas returned to the 18th century, but Vern hadn't really told him anything about history beyond the fact that he would be the president eventually. Giving James a book which basically wrote out every recorded detail of his immediate future was much more of a gamble.

"They wrote an entire book about Dolley?" This surprised James.

"Sure," Vern steered him towards the cashier. She didn't need to get banned from Monticello because James forgot that they needed to pay for something. She reluctantly handed over her credit card.

"Did anyone else's wife get a biography?" James asked, flipping through the pages curiously. "I know that Hamilton's wife was discussed at length in that play of his, but what about Martha Washington? Surely, if there are books about Dolley, there are books about Martha?"

"Yeah," Vern agreed at length. "Martha's a pretty big deal."

"How did the Washington family fare?" James seemed to want to know about every single player in the founders club. "Is Mount Vernon toured to such lengths as Monticello?"

"I think it's a little worse, actually."

"Would it…" James looked at Vern with that deceptively manipulative hesitant expression of his. "Would it be at all possible to tour the premises as it is today?"

"Like, today, today?"

"I understand that you may be busy." James didn't look at Vern.

Vern let out a heavy sigh. James Madison was phenomenal at employing the guilt trip. "Alright. I'll buy the tickets on the car ride there."

* * *

"Have you met Mr. Washington?" James asked as he and Vern walked through the property of Mount Vernon. He had waited until they had finished their tour to speak again. He'd sulked all the way through the tour, openly scowling when the tour guide presumably said something incorrect. Or failed to mention something that James thought he ought to be included in, such as the list of notable guests who had stayed at Mount Vernon.

"No," Vern answered, looking around thoughtfully. "Just you and Thomas so far."

"He was a fascinating man," James remarked, also looking around. "Not at all what I'm sure you must think him to be. The tours make it sound as though he were some Grecian god. He was a quiet man who enjoyed a simplistic life on a grand scale, but he was certainly still human. He had a sense of humor. He did things other than sit around agonizing over the fate of this country."

"Let me guess, you're going to tell me that I should come back here on Washington's birthday and let him have a whack at the 21st century." Vern was cynical of the founding fathers at this point.

"If you would like to," James answered airily. "I believe that is entirely at your discretion."

"What do you think they're saying about you, back at your estate?" Vern tried to change the subject. She didn't want to commit herself to any more founding fathers than she needed to. "On tours of your house. I'm surprised that you haven't asked to see Montpelier."

James smiled and shook his head. "I fear that I do not have the temperament to hear such things. It is all well and good to hear incorrect statements about Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Washington, but I am afraid that if I were to hear such things about myself, I would have no choice but to correct them."

"Then I guess we should stay away from Montpelier."

"I guess that you are right."

"Are you done looking around here?" They'd been at Mount Vernon for two hours, now. The sun was starting to set over the fields.

"I believe so," James looked around once more before meeting Vern's eyes. "Shall we return to your home?"

"I think that'd be best." Vern pulled her car keys out of her pocket.

* * *

They listened to show tunes on their way home. Both Vern and James were still uncomfortable in the presence of one another, especially in the absence of a mitigating third party, such as Maggie, or a gaggle of tourists.

It wasn't until the Wicked soundtrack had finished that James broke the silence which had lasted two hours so far.

"Have you noticed that, in all of these productions, there is always some element of unrequited love?" He remarked, gesturing towards the car radio as though it were the source of such a phenomena.

"I don't think there's always unrequited love in plays," Vern replied, considering this. "But I think it's probably pretty common. It's relatable. I think a lot of people have been in positions where their feelings might not be returned."

"Have you?"

"No, but I think I'm special in that regard. What about you?"

James smiled grimly. "Of course. Have you not read the numerous books which exist solely to describe my personality? I am hardly known for my charming temperament."

"Dolley seems to think you're charming."

"Hm. Yes, she does. I would prefer that more people than just Dolley thought so, too."

Vern didn't even bother trying to figure out who he meant.

* * *

They ordered pizza for dinner when they got home. James was reluctant - he complained that all of the food they'd been eating was ruining the uplifting effects of modern medicine on him. There was some truth in his words, but neither Vern nor Maggie had the money to make him anything all too healthy.

Either way, James' complaints were silenced when Maggie regaled him with stories of how much Thomas had loved pizza. It seemed that the quickest way to get James to agree to something was to tell him that Thomas had enjoyed it during his stay in the 21st century.

When they actually ate the pizza, James' complaints returned. It was too greasy. There was too much cheese. James had been diagnosed with lactose intolerance and Vern had simply forgotten the one diagnosis out of the many. He fished semi-expired hummus out of the fridge and ate it along with the picked-off broccoli that Maggie had ordered on her pizza.

While he ate this tragic dinner, Maggie bombarded him with questions.

"So you're saying that George Washington wasn't really like the way that he was portrayed in Hamilton?" Maggie's bottom lip jutted out into a pout. "That's so disappointing. I thought that I had finally found a historic figure that I could call Daddy."

"Ugh." Vern cast Maggie a judgmental look of disgust.

"I beg your pardon?" James looked to Vern for an explanation.

"You don't want to know." Vern assured him.

James looked at Maggie, still inquisitive. "No, I do not believe that Mr. Washington was quite as...ah...what's the word? Stoic, perhaps? As he was portrayed in the play. He was a man just like any other man. A great man, to be sure, but still a man."

"Hm. Are you including him in your play?" Maggie looked at the small pile of pages sitting next to James. She'd been begging to read his play since he had started it. He had declined her requests each time. "Is he going to be more human?"

"I do not yet know." James admitted. "I have not reached a point in which including him would be necessary. I do not know if it would be wise to do so, anyway. It seems that modern society functions best with its belief that it was created by a god, not a group of men."

"Fair enough," Maggie waved lazily. She turned to look at Vern, smiling. "Think he'll let us read his play when you have to give him back?"

Day Five

James fell asleep on the floor, still writing his musical. Vern and Maggie fell asleep on the couch, bowls of macaroni and cheese in their hands. When they woke up, Maggie eyed the ever-growing stack of papers beside James curiously.

"Let's read it while he's asleep," She whispered to Vern, nudging her in the ribs.

"Mm," Vern hummed uncertainly. "I don't know. That seems like an invasion of privacy."

"What kind of writer writes something that they don't want other people to see?"

Vern thought fleetingly of her secret fanfiction account.

"Come on," Maggie persisted. "He was writing your name in it, earlier. Don't you want to see what he's writing?"

"Fine," Vern sighed, her resolve weakening. She'd been dying to read James' play since he had explained that he was writing one. His secretive nature only made it all the more tempting. Besides, if Maggie was the one to swipe it from beside James' sleeping figure, surely Maggie would be the one blamed.

"Here we go." Maggie scooped up the stack of papers, straightening it on the edge of the coffee table before laying it down in her lap. "James Madison's answer to Hamilton."

Maggie skimmed the first page. It was too far away for Vern to be able to read very well. She waited for Maggie to finish the page before retrieving it from her lap and reading it herself. It wasn't very good. The writing was stiff and forced. The characters all behaved similarly. The plot's direction was ambiguous.

"Hmm." Maggie hummed, handing Vern the second page.

"It's not very good." Vern whispered with some reluctance. "We should just put this back before he wakes up."

"Ah," Maggie suddenly smiled, passing Vern the third page. "Read this. I think you're about to change your mind."

"Maggie, I don't -"

James shifted in his sleep. Both of them paused, watching him with wide eyes until he settled in his sleep again. Vern then turned to Maggie, her lips pursed.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Just read this third page. If you still want to stop after that, we will."

"Fine." Vern snatched the page from Maggie irritably.

 _Then Mr. Madison met Ms. Vern and Ms. Maggie. They were two starkly differing young ladies. Ms. Maggie had a charming presence. She was beautiful and free. Ms. Vern, on the other hand, had a vital presence. While Ms. Maggie was excitable, like fire, Ms. Vern was necessary, like air._

"Okay," Vern was a grown up. She was an adult who would not cry at a terribly written play made by a jealous founding father. She wouldn't do it. She was a grown up. "We should stop."

"Are you crying?"

"I am a grown-up."

"That's not what I was asking." Maggie cast Vern a shit-eating grin.

"Anyway," Vern tossed the three pages she'd read back into Maggie's lap before climbing off of the couch. Her limbs were stiff as she ambled to the kitchen to find something for breakfast. "We should wake him up soon. I've got class in two hours and I'm not sure if he has any intention of going with me, or not."

"You're no fun." Maggie returned the pile of papers to James' side, looking down at him thoughtfully. "Why can't you just take the week off? You're ahead in all of your classes, anyway."

"If I took off of school every time that a founding father was spending the week with me…"

"I dare you to finish that sentence."

"It's not practical." Vern looked at Maggie pointedly, jamming her pop tarts in the toaster. "Could you please wake him up for me?"

"I am already awake," James grumbled from his position on the floor. "It is impossible to get any sleep with you ladies whispering so."

"How long have you been awake, there, Jemmie?" Maggie grinned down at him.

He looked up at her optimistically. "The whole night."

"Is that right?"

"Leave him alone, Mags," Vern rolled her eyes, grabbing the pop tarts out of the toaster when they were done and throwing them on a plate. She wiped her singed fingers on her jeans. "James, I have class this afternoon - Constitutional law. I know that you didn't enjoy the study group very much. Do you have any interest in coming along with me?"

"Okay," James sat up, looking around groggily. He frowned at the pop tarts on Vern's plate. "Is there anything of substance which I might eat before we depart?"

"There might be some yogurt in the fridge, but I don't know when the expiration date is."

James sighed. "Very well. May I have a pop tart?"

* * *

James behaved himself throughout the class, mostly focusing on working on his play. When a picture painted during the Revolutionary war materialized in Vern's textbook, however, his behavior grew strange. He looked at the picture wistfully, ignoring the conversations going on around him. He looked as though he were longing for the blood and gore being portrayed in the portrait. Vern cast him a strange look before returning her attention to the lecture.

"I was never healthy enough to participate in the war," James explained as they walked towards the parking lot after class. He looked at the ground as he spoke. "I always admired the bravery of the soldiers who were strong enough to fight. Everyone else admired them, likewise. It was difficult to participate in politics, once the war was over. War heroes were trusted above average men like myself. No one could fathom that a man who supported our right to self-governance as vehemently as war heroes could have stood by and worried over papers and numbers."

"You still did pretty well for yourself," Vern reminded him optimistically. She didn't know how else to respond to his regrets about not going to war. He would have certainly died, had he gone to war. "You still got to be president and all."

"A president who never fought for his country."

"Well, the War of 1812…"

"What the hell happens in 1812?"

"Anyway," Vern sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Most of the presidents nowadays don't participate in the military until they're the president. Politicians, too. It's not a requirement. No one thinks less of you for it."

"Do citizens admire war heroes above politicians?"

"Well…" Vern chewed her lip, thinking of the reverence afforded to John McCain whenever the subject of war came up. "I don't think it's a requirement, anyway."

"I am not asking for consolation," James assured Vern as they climbed into Vern's crappy car. He smiled piteously. "I am merely expressing one of my regrets. It is a behavior, I fear, which is exhibited by many men of my age.

"I see." Vern glanced at James with a small smile before driving home.

Once they reached the apartment, James skulked off to the bathroom to continue working on his play. He claimed that he needed to take advantage of a time when Maggie wasn't around to distract him. Vern didn't care. As soon as James was out of sight, she grabbed her laptop off of the coffee table and set to work googling furiously.

She had a plan to allow Mr. James Madison to enjoy one last experience during his time in the 21st century.

* * *

"I do not think that this is an enjoyable game!" James panted as he ran to catch up with Maggie, eying the frisbee in her hand doggedly. Maggie just grinned at James, tossing the frisbee to another player carelessly.

Vern laughed to herself as she passed the field to get to her car. That would teach James for asking to participate in Maggie's ultimate frisbee practice.

"Vern, where are you going?" Maggie noticed Vern crossing the parking lot, apparently.

Vern turned around, smiling at Maggie and James. They were both watching her, red-faced and panting. James' clothes were filthy from his many tumbles. Maggie's knees were bloody from too many heroic dives to catch a frisbee.

"I'm going to the store," Vern explained, gesturing towards the parking lot. "Need anything?"

"I thought you were going to stick around until the game," Maggie complained. "I need a cheerleader."

"You've got James." Vern reminded her, laughing again. "I'll be back soon."

"Get me some chocolate!" Maggie called as Vern turned to walk towards her car again. "And maybe some band-aids for Jemmie!"

Vern smiled to herself as she climbed into her car and started towards Party City. It was out of the way, as compared to Walmart, which was the local hotspot for shopping culture at the university, but it was the only place that sold Revolutionary War soldiers costumes nearby. That was a vital part of her plan.

She saw them immediately upon walking into the store. Since Hamilton, they had been proudly featured in the display window. Vern could only imagine what the cashier thought of her when she purchased three costumes and politely inquired if they sold any fake muskets. She wound up spending a little over $200 on everything, muskets included. It was only a matter of time until her credit card company called her.

Day Six

"Why are we going back to Mount Vernon?" James complained, slumping down in the passenger seat like a pouting child. "I have no interest in going on that disastrous tour another time. Is this for your benefit?" He turned to look at Maggie critically.

"Don't look at me; I don't know why we're going, either." Maggie replied from the back seat, raising her hands as a sign of surrender. "All I ever did was harbor an inappropriate crush on George Washington. I never asked to see where he lived. I liked it better when he lived in a little fictitious sphere."

"Vern." James turned to look at Vern, frowning. "Why are we going to Mount Vernon again?"

"I told you, you'll see when we get there."

"I dislike such an answer."

"Too bad. It's the only one that you're going to get."

"What's with all of the duffle bags back here?" Maggie piled on to the complaining. Vern should have assumed that she would do so. She glanced at Maggie in the rear-view mirror as Maggie patted at the bags. "Are these a part of the trip, too? Or are you planning on murdering us and then putting our severed limbs in these bags?"

"What?" James looked alarmed.

"Stop watching those murder mystery shows." Vern rolled her eyes at Maggie's suggestion. "No one is going to get murdered or put in a duffle bag. Can't you two just let me surprise you? Just once? That's all I ask for."

"We were going to go to the beach and get drunk today." Maggie whined. "That was going to be how we celebrated Jemmie's last day with us. I can't believe you're taking getting drunk on the beach away from me. You know how much I love the beach. And drinking. And seeing people shirtless."

"Hush. We're here," Vern smiled with relief as she pulled into the crowded parking lot of Mount Vernon. There were already people walking around in full costumes. James looked out the window in surprise.

"What is this?" He asked.

"It's Revolutionary War day at Mount Vernon," Vern answered with a grin. "And I signed us up. You're finally going to get to fight in the war. Mags, the duffle bags have our uniforms and muskets in them if you would please pass them out."

"This is ridiculous," James criticized, watching as Maggie fished out the costumes and muskets. Maggie looked at them dispassionately. "I am hardly a child who needs to be indulged in some false - no, _I_ wanted the officer's uniform!"

He snatched the costume that Maggie had chosen for herself from her arms. Maggie looked at him in surprise before shrugging and taking a different costume. Vern couldn't swallow her smile in time to hide it from James. When he saw it, he pouted.

"Where am I to change into this?"

"Soldiers change in the car." Maggie had already peeled off her shirt. Vern rolled her eyes. "Be a man, Jemmie."

"I believe I see a tree which will shield me adequately." James climbed out of the car, clutching his costume to his chest. "Do not depart without me, or I shall be very angry."

"Yes, sir." Vern teased.

James didn't seem to understand that she was joking. He threw out his chest like some well-to-do officer before sauntering off in the direction of a tree. Vern and Maggie exchanged amused looks.

"God, he's going to be _so_ into this, isn't he?" Maggie asked.

"Be glad we're on the same side." Vern agreed.

* * *

Vern had anticipated James getting way too into the reenactment. She had not anticipated Maggie getting so into it, too. While James was running around, barking orders at people whether he knew them or not, Maggie was playing far too rough for a reenactment. When accused of giving one of the reenactors a bloody nose, she asserted that she was only being singled out because the men felt threatened by a female officer who was defending the cause better than they were.

But that was Mount Vernon's problem. Vern's only concern was ensuring that James was enjoying himself. From the way he darted among the crowd, reminding everyone that he was a commanding officer and pointing his fake musket at nothing in particular, it was plain to see that he was certainly enjoying himself.

After the reenactment, they ate dinner at Mount Vernon Inn. James spent all of the dinner talking too loudly about his conquests.

"I thought that I did very well," He commended himself. Vern smiled at him indulgently. "Many men do not have an aptitude for command, but I believe that I may have a knack for it, yet. Did you see the way the men leapt to attention whenever I drew near? A few were about to take a break - eat sandwiches and drink ale - when I rallied them once more. I may have won the war for our country a few years earlier, had I been fit to lead!"

The men who James had yelled at during the reenactment glowered at him from a few tables away. Vern ignored them.

"You did great." She agreed, taking a sip of her water. She glanced at Maggie, who was obviously trying to catch the eye of another reenactor, a young officer who had given Maggie a run for her money on the battlefield. Vern rolled her eyes. "Mags, I think we're going to head out soon. It's getting late. Are you coming with us, or am I going to get a phone call from you tomorrow morning asking to be picked up?"

"Hmm, it could go either way." Maggie did not look away from the young officer.

"Alright. James, are you ready to go?"

"Why are we leaving Ms. Maggie behind?"

"Because Ms. Maggie has the libido of a teenager."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She wants to court that officer over there."

"Which one?"

"That one."

"Which one?" James asked irritably. He craned his neck for a better look. "I cannot see anyone behind that woman, there!"

Maggie smiled sardonically. "Bless his little 18th century heart."

"We're going," Vern decided that it was best not to explain the situation to James. "Mags, I'm taking James back to Montpelier tomorrow morning. If you're staying here, you might want to say your goodbyes now."

"We already said our goodbyes," Both James and Maggie said at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

"Wha-?"

"When I was dying on the battlefield," Maggie rolled her eyes as though this were perfectly obvious. "We said all of our goodbyes out on the field, which is where I think we should leave them."

"I agree." James said with a comical amount of authority.

"Okay, I've created two monsters," Vern rolled her eyes, standing up and collecting her bag. "C'mon, James. We've got a long drive back and we need to get to Montpelier before they open tomorrow morning."

"Okay." James followed after Vern without a moment's hesitation.

On the car ride home, Vern had expected to have some lengthy conversation with him about his experiences in the 21st century, or anything else he wanted to do before he went back to the 18th century, but he fell asleep almost immediately after she began driving. He was holding his musket like a teddy bear.

Day Seven

The drive back to Montpelier was a remarkably quiet one. James accepted a pop tart as they walked out the door. He replied to Vern's comment on the weather, on the emptiness of the roads, and on the fact that Maggie hadn't come home the night before.

It wasn't until Vern pulled into the Montpelier parking lot that he said anything of real substance.

"I left my play on your bed," He ventured quietly. "I would like you to read it - I did not have the courage to watch you read it in my presence."

"Okay." Vern agreed uncomfortably.

"And if you think it is good...and I will understand if you do not think that it is good, I would ask a favor. If you do not consider it too much, of course."

Vern knew where this was going. "Yeah?"

"I would like for Hamilton to see it." James didn't look at Vern as he spoke. "I had always rationalized my actions by knowing that he understood the position that I found myself in, but that play...it cast doubts that I feel I must address. I am hoping that showing Hamilton the play will do so."

"Sure," Vern sighed, visibly deflating. "I'll figure out when his birthday is, and I'll be there."

"Thank you," James didn't move from his seat. He was pondering over something else. He was going to ask Vern for another favor. Unbelievable. "And were you...I mean, only if you're planning on it...that is to say, Maggie told me that you would...erm...Mr. Jefferson?"

"Yes, I'm going to go see Thomas when it's his birthday."

"I left a letter to him beside my play," James said hastily, looking around the empty parking lot. "I would appreciate it if you would hand it to him. Preferably without reading it."

Vern knew that Maggie would convince her to read it the moment that she heard about the letter. Still, she nodded and agreed. "Sure."

"Thank you." James reluctantly reached for the door handle. He paused, turning to look at Vern for a moment. "Not just for the letter, but for the way that you have treated me during my stay. Though you do not have much in the way of wealth to offer, I did not once feel slighted during my stay. Such a luxury meant more to me than all of the wealth in the world."

"I'll try to have healthier food next year." Vern promised him with an amused smile.

"You intend to allow me to join you next year?" James brightened up.

"Of course." Vern's eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised that James had not assumed as much.

"I think that you are one of the best friends that I have ever had," James spoke carefully, not meeting Vern's eyes.

"We'll miss you." Vern spoke for herself and Maggie.

"And I shall miss you and Ms. Maggie," James smiled grimly as a car rolled into the parking lot near them. "But I suppose all good things must come to an end. I must, therefore, bid you farewell."

"Do you want me to walk you to the gate?"

"I fear my resolve will weaken if you do."

"We'll be back in a year."

"I expect you to fulfil that promise." James smiled as he opened the door, taking a careful step out of the car and onto the gravel lot. "Thank you, Vern."

Vern just nodded, watching as James closed the car door behind himself and walked towards the estate.

Mistaking him for an employee (most likely because he was dressed identical to the impersonator that Vern had seen a week ago), the security guard let him pass without a second look. James turned around to wave at Vern once before disappearing behind the gate to Montpelier.

* * *

 **Hi all! I am alive and well - shocker, given my radio silence, I know. I meant to post this yesterday, on James' actual birthday, but the combination of slow writing and FF errors made that impossible until now. So...here it is!**

 **As for the few of you who are also following my far-too-long fanfic, This One's Mine, guess what? I'M ALMOST DONE WITH THE WHOLE THING! Weekly chapters are coming back into your lives on a permanent basis. I'll also have a link to my writing website, which will have the entire story posted probably by the end of next week.**

 **Enjoy, everyone!**


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